Narciso Rodriguez / Spring 2013 RTW

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What happens when the two-dimensional—that would be a plane of fabric—and the three-dimensional—that would be you—collide? That is, of course, the story of fashion, and claiming a sizeable chapter in this tale this season is Narciso Rodriguez. Ever since he started out with his own label way back in the late nineties, he’s taken a resolutely modernist (and modern) approach to the alchemic reaction that happens when cloth hits curves; all that functionality and form plus, in his case, frisson of sex stuff. It turns out, then, that his idea of next spring is rooted in his past. And you know what? In one of those fashion-y twists of fate, it pushed him well into the future. We had his reimagined versions of slip dressing and lingerie construction and square-shouldered fasten-free jackets and pants that tapered to just above the ankle, their graphic athleticism letting us buy into the notion (fantasy or otherwise, admittedly) that nothing is ever as compelling or as thrilling as getting dressed for twenty-first-century urban life.

Playing its part in all this was Rodriguez’s quite beautiful color (fuchsia, teal, emerald, aqua, and blood orange) coexisting with his more typical ivory and black. Oh, and exquisite handwork, in the form of laminated wooden paillette embroideries that rose and fell across his lean dresses and square-paneled sleeveless tops, giving a rippling and moving Asiatic-esque devoré effect to the clothes. These came together to lift the geometric rigor to a more sensual place, a move considerably enhanced by the strong dose of eroticism that Rodriguez imbued his clothes with once again. Cue zippers snaking up the back of skirts, sheer panels dipping deliciously (and dangerously) low at the back, and bra detailing that turned the week’s nascent lingerie-on-show-to-the-world trend into something approaching wearable.

Still, all this positivity and brightness wouldn’t mean a thing if there wasn’t also a little darkness to contend with. Or, in this case, for his audience to contend with. For all the polish and refinement of this collection—and there was plenty—it could have been enhanced all the more by showing it in a different way. Somehow, a cavernous black box of a room, with throbbing, hard-edged music, was at odds with the soaring quality of the collection. The mind couldn’t help but wander to the positivity of seeing that vivid color and superb embellishment in the naked light of day.